I have a thought process. Who is the wise among you?
I Timothy 6:8-10. 8. And having food and raiment let us be therewith content. 9. But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. 10. For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
So, are you thinking of a long theological debate on the aforementioned scriptures? No. It’s sufficient on its own.
Shall we set up a bar graph and categorize those we come in contact with? No. We can live without the comparisons. We humans are creatures of comparison. We measure temperature in July with what is an average or mean for July in our region. We say it’s colder or hotter than usual. So too we compare health, wealth, stature. We assume those who live in large new houses are people of means. We see people who are well-dressed in the company of another who looks well; and conclude that they are healthy, wealthy, and wise.
Are we being wise? Is casting such judgement accurate? Do we wish to fit the mould we assume is there?
Friend, let’s break the chain! Be free! Be true! Allow ourselves to sing with the songbirds. If our car is old, let’s go wash it. Clean the windows.
The sunset on the water is exactly the same for the one on a rowboat, or on a luxury yacht.
A smile is as radiant on the face above the thrift store sweater as it is on the one with a new cashmere sweater. A sweater that will need to be paid when the next credit card statement comes due!
My mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer when she was in her mid-seventies. There wasn’t much they could do for her. She refused to let go. We suspected she was in denial. She wouldn’t say the word “cancer”.
When challenged she retorted, “I know I have cancer. But I’m not dead yet.”
A short period of time went by. She went into a palliative care room. The family was warned, “She has a short time.”
My brother travelled in to say his good-byes. There lay mother, in a palliative care room, in a fetal position. Evidently, she was going home. My concerned brother, meaning well, asked her if she was ready for departure.
She retorted, “How many times in one morning must I answer that question? I’m not dead yet!” Earlier that day two other concerned nephews, both men of the cloth, had asked her the same question. We were all confused. We didn’t understand. It was so unlike mother to express frustration about the sacredness of passing from time to eternity.
A few days went by. Mother improved. The doctors were absolutely without answers. Our phone rang. We could pick up mother from the hospital and return her to her room at the nursing home!
She walked with us to the car. I asked in a joking way, “You want to stop anywhere on the way?”
“Yes,” Mother replied. “I want an ice cream cone from Dairy Queen.” We had ice-cream cones all around.
I asked her, “Mom, what’s going on?”
Matter-of-factly she replied, “I asked God for another year.”
A year and several months went by, and Mom was again at the crossing. I walked into her room. Again, she was in the fetal position. This time I asked, “Mom, you ready to go home?”
“Yes,” she said, “I’m ready to go.” She breathed her last breath before the day was done.
Mother was okay with “breaking the mould.” She wanted to touch the stars. She was not afraid to ask for the unheard of.It is our choice to be stereotypical. We have to reach out of the box to experience the joy of touching the stars.
